


Doorways

by keelywolfe



Series: Slice of Life [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Romance, Snow, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before meeting Dwarves, Bilbo would never have believed anyone could spend all their time indoors, if the inside of a mountain, particularly Erebor, could be called anything so bland as indoors. Away from the Sun would be more accurate, he supposed, and Bilbo had since learned that Dwarves could be content with just that for weeks at a time. </p>
<p>Set in an altered universe where Bilbo is living in Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doorways

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else hip deep in snow right now? Yeah, me too. This is my feel-better-about-being-snowed-in-fic.

* * *

Before meeting Dwarves, Bilbo would never have believed anyone could spend all their time indoors, if the inside of a mountain, particularly Erebor, could be called anything so bland as indoors. Away from the Sun would be more accurate, he supposed, and Bilbo had since learned that Dwarves could be content with just that for weeks at a time. 

The very idea of it tied a thick knot of discomfort into his belly, imagining being from the sun for so terribly long and to Bilbo's mind anything that disturbed the appetite could not be a good thing. 

Therefore, it was no little relief to him that one of the greatest luxuries in the King's chambers, to his mind, was a well-hidden doorway to the outside. With a single cunning word that Thorin had taught him, (and it had taken an embarrassingly long time for him to learn to curl his tongue around those syllables, sounding to him more like a cross between a cough and a sneeze, tied up with a hiccough) and the door swung open, leading him to a plateau atop the mountain. 

Every morning Bilbo ventured out that little door, standing with what felt like all of Middle-earth laid out at his hairy feet. From his perch he could see Dale and each day it seemed another building rose, he could see the trees that began Mirkwood, their leaves changing from summer green to gold. He could see the mountain, the mossy stone and graying rock and occasionally wispy cloud hid all from him. Everything but the Sun, and every morning Bilbo basked in it, breathing in the fresh air that grew progressively chillier. 

Despite the cool Autumn air, Bilbo never closed the little door after him, manners giving over to a fear of being locked outside. Many a morning passed with him standing pipe in hand as he soaked in the sights and the sunshine. On occasion, Thorin joined him for a smoke, the scent of their pipe weed mingling and had Bilbo not already loved him, the knowledge that Thorin did it with no desire for the Sun of his own might well have cemented things for him. 

In return, Bilbo tried to understand Thorin's love of the Earth and while touching it felt to him like nothing more than cold stone, he could see the beauty in gold-seamed rock and great carved beams and walls. 

Out his little doorway, he could see the beauty of Erebor and it was as much a part of Thorin as the Sun was him.

The ever growing chill in the air did not dissuade the Sun; it was always there to greet him and Bilbo only added a warm coat and scarf to his morning routine. Until the morning his door swung open and all that came to him was swirling white. 

Wide-eyed, Bilbo set his pipe on the ledge and stepped out into the hushed fall of it. He held out his hands and watched the fat flakes fall into his fingers wonderingly. Laughter bubbled up and he had no inclination to prevent it, stretching out his arms and breathing in the cold, crisp air, his bare feet shuffling through the snow that already lay upon the ground. Gray skies and chilly air were forgotten in the snowfall and Bilbo only spread his arms out to the sky and danced to its silent song.

The scuff of a boot was loud in the silent of falling snow, breaking through his revelry and Bilbo whirled towards it, nearly slipping and wouldn't that have been charming; falling on his backside would be the perfect ending to the show he'd been putting on. 

To his relief, it was not a guard, or worse, Dwalin. Thorin stood by the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the carven stone. White flakes were already dusting his hair, stark against the darkness and for a brief moment, Bilbo forgot to be embarrassed, charmed by the sight of snowflakes settling into dark tresses like stars in the night sky. 

Then Thorin smiled at him and mortification came back in a gluey swoop, leaving Bilbo coughing and ducking his head, scuffing back through the snow as if he hadn't just been caught playing in it like a child. 

Any hope that Thorin would for _once_ have the good manners to keep his thoughts to himself melted away when Thorin tipped his head slightly in that way Bilbo knew so very well, and as endearing as it was, he couldn't help but scowl as Thorin asked, curiously, "Does it not snow in the Shire?"

"Of course it does!" Bilbo said, drawing himself up with all the dignity he could muster. "We see snow all through the winter." One Dwarven brow rose in a show of true dignity and Bilbo wilted beneath the unspoken question. "It's simply…not like this."

How could he explain that the light dusting of snow that coated the Shire did not compare to the glittering drifts that fell over Erebor? That the ice-coated twigs of the little trees could not match the thick blankets that weighed the branches here, the heavy boughs bending under the burden and filling Bilbo's eyes with mingled green and white. In the Shire, he might chill an ankle stepping out to get his mail and in Erebor, he could fall back and be enveloped in cool whiteness, laying there while the chill seeped through his clothes and watching the flakes fall from the sky until he felt as though he hovered with them, carried on the wind. 

There weren't words and Bilbo only held out a hand, gesturing at everything and nothing, turning back to look at the rich, gleaming snow that was laid out before him. It was pure, clean loveliness and nothing could spoil it for him. Except perhaps an ice-cold handful of snow being shoved down the back of his collar and Bilbo's yelp rang out in the still air as he did a frantic dance that put any embarrassment he'd felt before to shame, fumbling with desperate hands to shake the unmelted bits free. 

"You--!" Bilbo began in perfectly righteous indignation, only to sputter as a loosely packed snowball puffed directly into his face. Sputtering, he wiped at his eyes, glaring in the direction of the laughter and oh, that was it, there would be revenge for this atrocity.

A tiny bit of his resolve faded at the sight of Thorin laughing, his cheeks rosy with the cold. The snow made his eyes seem all the bluer, sparkling yet with mirth, and it made Thorin all the lovelier when a well-thrown snowball caught him square in the face. 

With a single volley from each side, it descended into war and Bilbo could thank his ancestors for making him light on his feet, dodging Thorin's absurdly accurate Dwarven aim. He gave back as good as he got, frantically scooped up handfuls of snow thrown with his own excellent eye, and if he took a chilly lob to the back of the head, he returned it with one that was destined to send cold meltwater down the front of Thorin's shirt. 

All too soon he was breathless with laughter, fumbling with numb fingers and there was no time for anything but a shrill squeal when he was caught from behind, strong arms scooping him from his feet and depositing him firmly into the snowbank. His struggles were weak, giggling far too much for a worthy struggle and he could hardly manage a yelp when Thorin buried his cold nose against his throat, burrowing beneath his collar in search of some little warmth. 

"I yield, I yield," Bilbo cried feebly, yanking at Thorin's decidedly wet hair with frantic hands. Thorin shifted, rising to his elbows to look down at Bilbo, his grin wide and eyes still filled with recklessness, damp ringlets hanging down to tickle wetly at Bilbo's nose. Humor faded, the cold was creeping in and yet, Bilbo raised a hand to Thorin's cheek, fingers combing softly through his snow-damp beard. That grin eased, fading, until Thorin was only gazing down at him. 

The snow was still falling around them and Bilbo failed to notice it entirely, utterly lost the moment Thorin's cold mouth pressed to his own, chilly lips a thrilling contrast to the slick warmth of his tongue. He tasted of nothing but clean snow, sweet and gentle, the added chill of his hand against Bilbo's numbed cheek holding him still for each slow press of lips. Hardly necessary; even if Bilbo could have escaped from beneath Thorin's weight, there was no other place he'd rather be. 

The sinking wet chill against his back made him revise that opinion and Bilbo couldn't stop his teeth from chattering, hardly desirable in the middle of a kiss. Thorin raised his head and the mirth in his eyes was replaced with concern. Bilbo found himself on his feet in a trice and counted himself lucky that Thorin hadn't decided to simply carry him. He did rather want a few shreds of dignity remaining by the end of the day. 

Still, he obeyed Thorin's firm grip hustling him back into the mountain without protest and with very little imagination, he thought of where he would soon be. Swathed in blankets and furs in front of a blazing fire, a hot drink close to his hand and it was hardly a strain to add a stout, bare body beneath those blankets with him, warmed skin beneath his hands and soft groans instead of laughter heavy in his ears. 

At the doorway, Bilbo hesitated, resisting Thorin's pull and for a last moment he looked out into the snow, watching as it fell and settled silently over the mountainside. Then he followed Thorin back inside, followed his path that hopefully led to a fireside and kisses flavored with hot tea, safely hidden from the chilly world outside. 

-finis-


End file.
